an elaborate framework of hinged struts, cables dangling.
The Project itself was huge, seven feet tall and made of polished silver. It’s head was a rectangular box, with a man’s face crudely constructed out of moving metal cut-outs: a nose, even eyebrows. Its jaw was a separate piece and it had two red lights for eyes, which lazily moved from the doctor to his assistant.
The robot had only one arm; the metal of its right-hand side was tarnished, the innards exposed along the flank, sheered clean off, the damage reaching as far down as the hip and upper thigh. From the open side, a dozen cables fed out to the instrument banks in the laboratory proper, with several more connected to the framework suspended over the slab.
“You and me, kid. What a team we could be,” said the robot, its amplified voice echoing around the laboratory like it was coming out of a PA. Laura flinched and turned quickly away. Doctor X just shook his head.
“The Project has been in fine form this morning.” He returned his attention to his clipboard. “Are we ready for today’s test?”
Laura nodded and moved to the largest instrument bank nearest the cage. “The new cell is calibrated. All we have to do is install it and turn it on when the Director gets here. She should be impressed.”
Doctor X frowned but, secretly, he agreed. The Director couldn’t fail to be impressed with their progress after seeing the latest prototype in action. He put the clipboard down and moved to the table, pulling a large dust cloth off a squat metal cylinder a foot in length and half that in width. Each end angled inward, and around the top rim were a series of slots. Doctor X peered into the top of the cylinder; just below the rim the object was capped with a black glass circle.
“Be a gem, pal,” said the voice. “Let me out and we can show the world what we got.”
The doctor ignored the voice.
Initially, the Project hadn’t spoken. In the first weeks in the underground laboratory, the doctor’s prime objective had been to get it to talk, because he thought if the robot could talk, it would make the work easier. Of course, he’d assumed the robot would be cooperative, just like all the other robots he’d seen as special advisor to the City Commissioner, back in the Empire State. True enough, the Project didn’t look anything like the machine hybrids constructed for the Ironclad fleets, but the doctor did recognize the design from early upgraded prototypes the Navy had been toying with.
But then one morning he woke up in another place. His head hurt like all hell, but she’d made it better, made the pain go away. He recalled that morning, lying in an unfamiliar bed in what seemed to be a prison cell, a glowing blue woman floating a foot off the floor beside him.
Doctor X removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. She would be here soon. He had to get on with his work.
The robot – the Project, as the Director had called it – had started talking, eventually. But clearly it had been damaged in the transfer between here and there. It spoke nonsense most of the time, trying to get the doctor to free it, despite the fact that it was badly damaged and missing an arm.
Doctor X soon realized the machine would not be of any help. Over the next months he’d learned to tune out the incessant, deranged ramblings of the robot.
“Sweetheart, just think of it. Think of the possibilities.”
The Project has turned its attention to the doctor’s assistant, Dr Richardson. A bright young thing from Columbia University, at just twenty-four she had advanced the field of electronics more than Doctor X ever had. The Director had brought her in before his arrival to prepare the laboratory. How exactly the Director had known he was coming was one of the mysteries that surrounded her; one that had led Doctor X to believe she could see the future.
As Laura would say, creepy.
Suppressing a shiver, Doctor X walked into the cage and opened the front of the Project’s casing. The robot lay motionless against the slab, but its red eyes fixed on the top of the doctor’s head.
Inside the chest cavity was a circular port, six inches across and stretching clean through to the other side of the torso. The walls of the port were slotted at the compass points, and there were a series